Clandestine Wishes
by The Ultimate Otaku
Summary: A near-death accident and straying further away from Ron and Harry causes Hermione to seek the answer to questions she has about the mysterious Malfoys. OLD!
1. Default Chapter

As Harry and Ron fall further away from Hermione, her eagerness for knowing is being brought to new levels. She goes searching for other things to occupy her time, and a near-death accident gradually brings her to terms with non-studious parts of her mind. Deciding to do a little investigation of the Malfoy family and why Draco has been acting differently, she gets more involved in the Slytherin's life than she bargained for.  
  
A/N: Italics symbolize several things: dreams, some thoughts, diary entries, and memories. Basically, anything that is not dialogue, and not the actually telling of what is taking place will be in italics-that is, if it works out. This story is my first HP fanfic, so be merciful; and yes, I'm a fan of Draco Malfoy, so if you dislike him, you're welcome to take your leave and not leave any flaming snide comments about me, this fanfic, and especially not Draco Malfoy. Btw, my story title and the titles of the parts of this story are mostly abstract/metaphorical, not literal. Thank you very much.  
  
Story type: Drama, romance, some action, sortof  
  
DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, okay?! She's the witch who cast the spell, I'm just a spellbound being saying hello to the webs of her spell. So don't sue me. I am an innocent fan.  
  
Clandestine Wishes By C.S Bolte  
  
PART ONE: AMONGST THE DROPS OF POURING BLOOD  
  
1 The Ring and the Envelope  
  
With thin pale fingers, he slowly twisted the ring of metal around and  
around his finger. His muscles, strained with tension, consistently  
tugged the metal left and then right, never stopping the spinning  
motion. Steel grey-blue eyes gazed at the sparkling emerald stud of  
the ring. Those eyes, never blinking, thoughtfully focused on the  
symbolic ring, eyes of seemingly emotionless luster.  
  
Tightly gripping the ring, he twisted it off with a forceful wrench,  
and a flicker of reluctance passed through his eyes as he gazed at it  
one last time, holding the object precariously over it's pit of doom.  
Then, with a snarl of anger, he viciously dropped the ring into the  
open mouth of deep darkness, forever lost to the attachment of human  
hands.  
  
~~*~~  
  
"Scarhead! You and your sleazy friends can go to hell! Next time you  
see your friend Weasel, tell him to go get a life - he could, say -  
beg for money on the streets! And as for that Mudblood Granger, she  
should transfigure herself into a beaver, it'd sure suit her looks  
better than the body she's in now!"  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy! You're just envious that Ron has friends, and  
Hermione's teeth are normal size now, prat! You don't know anything  
about what my friends and I should or shouldn't do!"  
  
"Like you do, Potter. Even your parents didn't know what was best for  
them, and went and got themselves killed! Just because you escaped  
doesn't mean you won't meet the same ugly end, all because of your  
choice in friends and stupidity! I bet your father would be ashamed to  
see his son now, pathetically hanging out with riffraff like Weasley  
and that Granger!"  
  
Furious, Harry was about to spit out a retort, or shove Malfoy off of  
his broomstick, do something to get him back, when suddenly, the grey-  
blue eyes lit up, and before Harry could so much as blink, the  
blondish-silver-haired Slytherin had zoomed past in a flurry of green.  
  
Harry swore under his breath, flying after the other Seeker before the  
Snitch was caught. It was his sixth year of Hogwarts, and everything  
had been going horribly, ever since the beginning of the year. First  
of all, he hadn't gotten a letter from Sirius in the longest time.  
And, to make matters worse, Snape was even nastier to him than usual.  
And ever since last week, Malfoy had been doing and saying everything  
to get him, Ron, and Hermione upset. It was working, too.  
  
Harry had begun to catch up, he was almost there, his hand reached  
towards the Snitch- BAM. He felt himself shoved to the side, and as he  
closed his eyes, the call rang out, "SLYTHERIN WON." All other sounds  
from then on were tuned out, as he let himself sink into depression.  
  
Harry Potter never lost against Slytherin! The idea was preposterous!  
Even more of an addition to the wrongness of this year; he had let  
Malfoy's teasing distract him enough to let the Slytherin Seeker get  
past him and win the game. Bugger.  
  
He landed on the Quidditch field. Unlike his current demeanor,  
everything about the Quidditch field glowed, bright and warm. The  
green grass whispered peacefully, the Bludgers and Quaffles now safe  
and sound in their box. Everything around Harry reflected the opposite  
of what he felt. The last thing he saw before leaving the Quidditch  
field was the smirk and wink given to him by Malfoy before the light-  
haired boy turned back to listening to Professor McGonagall, a worried  
expression on his face.  
  
It wasn't even satisfactory to see that Malfoy had something to worry  
about. Gryffindor had lost, and there was tons of Potions homework  
Harry didn't feel like doing. So far, being 16 wasn't so great for  
Harry Potter  
  
~~*~~  
  
"Did you hear? Today is Parents Visiting Day."  
  
"Wha? No way, seriously? Oh bloody hell, can't let mum see my  
unfinished homework!"  
  
"Harry? What's happening with you?"  
  
"Nothing. Do you really think the Dursleys would come visit me at  
Hogwarts? Yeah right."  
  
Hermione and Ron gazed worriedly at Harry as he went back to reading  
his Quidditch book. He had been dismal and separate from them for the  
last few days.  
  
"The whole school will be filled with parents. Let's hope we don't  
bump into Malfoy. I've had enough of him this week, and would hate to  
see his parents."  
  
"You're not in luck then, Hermione. Speaking of the lil' prat, here he  
comes."  
  
~~*~~  
  
Draco Malfoy had been taught and had taught himself how a Pureblood  
and a Malfoy should act. Of course, he held up to the expectations,  
and openly spoke against any people who weren't Purebloods. However,  
if for once he'd had the chance to think and do his own way, others  
may have been surprised by the hidden sides of this seemingly spoiled,  
firmly-opinionated, arrogant young man.  
  
Visiting Dumbledore had reminded him of last Friday. The day he was  
still wondering whether he should regret, or not. Stupid Dumbledore,  
making me deliver this damn letter to the Mudblood, knowing I'd hate  
the task. Why me? I refuse all ways of going near that know-it-all and  
her riffraff friends, especially dumb Scarface St. Potter. Argh, why  
does everyone remind me of every thing and every word I hate? Why do I  
constantly torture myself by remembering? Is there any way to get rid  
of it? Any cure? Bloody hell, sometimes I almost wish I could be  
included in their little team. At least the riffraff are happy.  
  
The last of his steps to the Gryffindor table were quick. A part of  
him told him it was because he wanted to get it over with, but another  
part said it wasn't so. Making sure to keep his ever-present neutral  
expression, he walked around the corner of the table, glancing at what  
Potter was reading. Quidditch book. Huh. He glared at the fierce red  
hair of the Weasley momentarily, and then tapped the girl on the  
shoulder.  
  
She turned around, looking at him questioningly, and then, realizing  
who it was, glared at him. He gave her stare for a stare for a moment,  
willing her to admit defeat and look away. But she didn't. Standing as  
if superior, he gave her a haughty look, and shoved the envelope into  
her hand, saying, "Dumbledore said to give this to you, Granger."  
  
She raised a brow, putting down her Sugar Quill and beginning to  
neatly open the envelope. Draco unconsciously stared at her hands as  
they moved, fluid and precise, not tearing the paper of the precious  
envelope, but opening it so that only the necessary damage needed to  
open it was done. He wanted her to hurry up. His eyes burned with  
wanting to know what it was about this muggle-born know-it-all that  
was so important. But at the same time, he wanted to continue watching  
her moving hands, never wanted them to stop, to be still and lifeless.  
  
Backing up a step, a flicker of fear flashed in Draco's eyes. What was  
he, a Pureblood, a Slytherin, and even more, a Malfoy, thinking? Why  
was he waiting for her to open the envelope? Why did he care? He  
didn't! He didn't care! Turning on his heel, his face flushed with  
embarrassment and anger, he stomped briskly out of the Great Hall,  
shoes tapping on the tile surface, sharp as his anger, quick as his  
rising emotions, and consistent as his fluttering, pent-up confusion.  
  
Unbeknownst to him, he was watched with a curious, thoughtful eye by  
the receiver of the letter. Her eagerness to know flared up, as  
Hermione Granger took interest in the unusual demeanor and  
disappearance of the Slytherin prefect, Malfoy. 


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, okay?! She's the witch who cast the spell, I'm just a spellbound being saying hello to the webs of her spell. So don't sue me. I am an innocent fan.  
  
2 Library Encounter  
  
"I'm going over to the library, okay? I need some studying time alone  
without you and your crazy chess. I'll see you guys later." Harry and  
Ron both waved, neither looking up from their chess game.  
  
"Bye Hermione!"  
  
"Tell of us if you get any tips about how to do the potions homework!  
See ya!"  
  
An armful of books in her arms, Hermione stepped out of the Gryffindor  
common room, and walked to the library. Plopping her large pile of  
thick books on the desk, she took out a piece of parchment, and  
opening up her transfiguration book, began to work on the assignment  
that was due the next day. Her brow furrowed slightly, eyes never  
blinking, head bent down, mouth moving in mutters, quill scribbling  
across the page furiously, she truly appeared to be the studious high-  
standard girl everyone saw her to be.  
~~*~~  
  
Malfoy sighed, smoothing back a lock of slickly gelled hair.  
This transfiguration class is such a bother. He was thankful for the  
impending evening. No one ever came around the library at this time,  
because everyone was in their common rooms squeezing in free time  
before dinner. No one would be around except prefects, and he was one,  
and besides, none of the other prefects talked to him anyway. It would  
be embarrassing if anyone saw him in this state, tired, studying, and  
flustered. He'd been having a bad day ever since that morning with the  
envelope.  
Speaking of the envelope, what had been in it?  
  
Brushing away this distracting thought, he yawned, and stretched out  
back against his chair, his muscles loosening from their previous  
exhaustion. He pulled back, however, when his hand hit up against  
something. And it wasn't a chair either. Who could be.?  
He slowly turned around, eyes narrowing. Someone else was studying?  
  
Oh.  
Of course.  
  
Granger.  
~~*~~  
  
Hermione jumped, dropping her Sugar Quill, as suddenly she felt a hand  
land on her shoulder, fingertips grazing her skin. It had been a long  
time since she had worn her robes entirely covering everything but her  
neck and face, because the weather was warming, and with almost  
everyone getting ready for Parent Visitation and a school vacation  
coming up soon, she wasn't embarrassed to be seen wearing muggle  
clothes and a Hogwarts cloak. She became self-conscious about wearing  
a tank top and jean-material skirt, however, as she realized she was  
not alone in what she had thought to be her sanctuary.  
  
Slowly turning her head, she gazed up towards a pair of steel grey-  
blue eyes, slick gelled-back blonde hair, and a disapproving slight  
frown. "Malfoy," she asked, her tone of voice not showing her surprise  
and slight irritation, "What are you doing here? And why?" She became  
very aware of his hand still on her shoulder. How long had it been  
since anyone's skin touched hers? His hand was cold.  
  
"I could ask you the same thing, Granger. Aren't your parents visiting  
today?" She bristled slightly, as his tone of voice on the word 'your'  
and 'parents" spoke clearly that he mocked her, since she was muggle-  
born.  
  
"Why no, Malfoy, in fact, they are not. Don't you know that muggles  
aren't allowed in Hogwarts? There is an illusion hiding the castle  
from all muggle eyes. There's no way any muggles could get in here,  
parents of students, or not." Draco, apparently, had nothing to say  
about this, although a flicker of annoyance did flare in his gaze  
momentarily.  
  
Hermione pointed her Sugar Quill at him accusingly, saying, "And what  
about you, Malfoy? Aren't you going to show off your parents to us  
unworthy muggle-born; won't you show us how alike you are to your  
great, powerful, Pureblood father?"  
  
Her satisfaction of having come up with a sarcastic comeback was cut  
off, as suddenly, his hand gripped her shoulder tightly, and she was  
swung out of her chair. He slammed her against the wall, hard. She  
gasped for breath as Draco's cold, thin hands grasped her throat.  
"Don't talk to me like that; you don't know anything about how I feel  
or about my father." He gave her a vicious push back, making her hit  
her head against the wall. "Don't. You. Ever. Dare. Speak. About my  
father. Ever. Again. And if you ever compare me to him again you'll  
find your throat cut in the middle of the night! You. you bloody arse-  
headed fool!"  
  
Hermione wondered, through her pain, why he was so touchy about the  
subject. Longing for breath, she managed to gasp between choked  
breaths, "You do know.That.you're touching a Mudblood, right? Aren't  
you afraid of touching dirty skin?"  
  
His voice coming out in a hiss, he replied, "If it was your skin that  
was contaminated, I wouldn't be calling you Mudblood, now would I,  
Granger?"  
  
Hearing this did not make Hermione feel any better. In fact, she was  
getting angry now. Just as she was beginning to consider kneeing him  
where the sun doesn't shine, his hands slid slowly from her neck.  
Gasping for breath, she watched and listened, as he turned around,  
saying, "Promise me never to talk about my family and me ever again,  
and especially my father, than I promise not to call you Mudblood  
anymore." Here he turned back, his glare so menacing, lip curled  
maliciously, eyes filled with such anger and hatred, that Hermione  
barely repressed a shiver. "However, Granger," his voice, once more in  
the snarling drawl instead of angry hiss, dripped with implied  
violence, "You may insult me as much as you want. BUT, never behind my  
back. You can rage and blaspheme me to my face as much as you want,  
but never, ever insult a Malfoy behind his back."  
  
With that said, Malfoy briskly walked away, his silent steps echoing  
the blankness Hermione felt.  
~~*~~  
  
Hermione had been sitting, slumped against the library wall, for a  
long time. She had been thinking over and over about every word Malfoy  
had said to her. It was by far the longest and most dreadful  
conversation she had ever had with him. He had actually managed to  
frighten her, when he shoved her against the wall, choking her. Her  
throat hurt still, even now. She hadn't known Malfoy was so strong.  
His body was lean, and he was graceful, like a cat. And he always  
seemed to do his bullying verbally, rather than physically. But his  
hands had so harshly grasped at her like a noose being tightened  
around her neck. And she had felt his strength, the force of his  
muscles, through his arms. Where had he become so suddenly strong?  
What a mystery they all were, the Malfoys.  
  
Smiling grimly, Hermione made her decision, once and for all. Malfoy's  
vicious defense for his father, his unusual demeanor upon delivering  
the envelope this morning, and the fact that he had been studying,  
plus all the rumors and implications around the Malfoys, made her  
curious. Usually she would back off from such a challenge, but, her  
being older now, and Gryffindor prefect, she believed it was okay to  
turn some new leaves over in her life. Jaw set, she marched toward a  
bookshelf, determined to find all possible information about the  
Malfoy family. Especially Draco. 


End file.
